Seven Years Gone
by Collegekid2006
Summary: When Shawn tells Juliet the truth, she has a choice to make.
1. Chapter 1

I knew he was going to tell me a moment before he actually did.

I could see it coming, but I couldn't do anything to stop it.  
But, that's what it's always like being around Shawn. It's like being one of those seismologists who have all their equipment and all their mathematical formulas and they can predict almost to the minute when an earthquake will strike, but they can't actually do anything to stop it from flattening everything in its path.

All they can do is hold on and hope for the best…

Of course, most of the time, it's kind of fun not knowing what he'll come up with.

Most of the time, it's fun to just hold on and hope for the best.

Sometimes, it's annoying.

Sometimes, it's irritating and frustrating and all you want to do it smack him.

But this time…it was something else all together.

This time, I actually did smack him.

"Ow!" He groaned, rubbing his arm. "What was that for?"

At first, I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

I didn't know why I smacked him. It's not like finding out he wasn't really psychic came as a huge shock.

I guess I should be clear on that point.

It wasn't a shock. I'm a detective. The possibility that he was lying about being a psychic had occurred to me. It was always right there, lingering in the back of my mind…like that nagging little voice that says you forgot to turn off your curling iron before you left the apartment that morning.

But, somehow over the years I had known Shawn, I had learned to ignore that voice. The one that told me he was a fraud. The one that told me not to trust him.

Somehow…that voice just didn't matter anymore.

Not when Shawn was always right.

Not when he always solved his case.

After a while, it didn't matter how he got his answers. All that mattered was that he got them.

Every time.

I may have even started believing he really was psychic…just a little.

I mean, how else could he always know the answer?

How else could he always get the right guy?

It had to be supernatural…

Right?

But now he was sitting in front of me, casually looking me in the eyes and telling me he had been lying for seven years.

Seven years!

How was I supposed to trust him now?

How could I believe anything he said when he had spent the last seven years lying to me?

I still didn't know what to say to him, so I smacked him again.

I'm not really sure why.

It was an impulse.

"Ow! Jules! Stop hitting me!"

"What do you want me to do?" I demanded, somehow finally managing to find my voice.

He shrugged, looking down at the table between us.

"I don't know. But it doesn't involve hitting!"

"You lied."

"You knew I was lying."

"That's not the point!" I snapped, already feeling my ears turning red. "It doesn't matter if I knew or not! It doesn't matter if I never believed you for a minute! All that matters is that you lied!"

Even as the words came flying out of my mouth, I realized why I had smacked him.

I wasn't mad because I had really believed him.

I was mad because I had _wanted_ to believe him.

Somehow…Shawn had made me _want_ to believe.

He made me want to believe that he was what he said he was.

He made me want to believe that everything was as simple as it looked.

He made me want to believe that I could trust him…that he wouldn't lie to me for seven years.

He made me want to believe in him…and now he was telling me I couldn't.

And there wasn't anything I could do about that.

So, I hit him.

I stood up from the table, turning away before he could see the tears starting to form in my eyes.

I wasn't sure if they were tears of anger or sorrow or some mixture of the two, but I knew he couldn't see them.

I never cry, and when I do, I never let anyone see it.

Especially not Shawn.

Especially not now.

"Jules!" He called after me, but I just kept walking away.

He was still sitting at the table. I could feel his penetrating hazel eyes following me as I left, but I didn't care.

Not this time.


	2. Chapter 2

I should have known better than to think I could walk away from Shawn.

You can't walk away from Shawn.

It's like one of those irreversible laws of nature;

You can't ditch your shadow.

You can't make yourself grow three inches taller.

You can't avoid getting a zit the night before the prom.

And you can't walk away from Shawn Spencer.

I still don't know how he found me walking along the beach. I didn't know I was going there myself until I somehow ended up standing on the water's edge, letting the surf wash over my bare feet.

I didn't hear him come up behind me.

I was too lost in my thoughts to hear anything.

"Hey, Jules."

I whirled around, already recognizing the voice.

The one voice in the world I didn't want to hear…and yet, the one voice I needed to hear the most.

"Please don't hit me!" He begged in feigned fear, throwing his hands up in front of his face defensively. "Or at least hit me in a different spot! Just not the face!"

"I'm not going to hit you , Shawn." I rolled my eyes, honestly not sure in that moment whether or not I was lying.

He slowly lowered his hands again, grinning broadly at me.

"Promise?"

"No."

He took a slow, cautious step back, just out of my reach.

"Then…I'll just stand back here…"

"Good idea."

I spun on my heel and started to march away like I had before, but I knew I wasn't going to get far this time.

It was an irreversible law of nature…

You just can't walk away from Shawn Spencer…

Not even if you really want to…but especially if you don't really want to.

He sighed and jogged to catch up, passing me in a few seconds and turning around so he was facing me and jogging backwards along the water's edge while I continued to storm away from him…even though now I was actually storming towards him while he backpedaled away from me…

It's confusing, but it made sense at the time.

"Come on, Jules! What do you want from me?" He asked, effortlessly keeping up his backpedaling without even looking behind him.

"I don't know, Shawn." I snapped, picking up my pace, which was actually a stupid thing to do since it meant I was just walking towards him faster now…

But it made sense at the time…

"You knew I was lying!"

"I don't care that you were lying!"

He stopped, suddenly looking confused.

"You don't?"

I stopped, too, as I realized for the first time that I wasn't getting anywhere trying to run away.

The only way I was going to get anywhere was by staying.

"No, Shawn. I don't care that you were lying."

"Then what was with the hitting?" He demanded. "'Cause, damn, Jules. You pack an awfully hard right-hook for someone who doesn't care I was lying."

"A psychic would've seen the second one coming!" I snapped. "A psychic would've ducked!"

"Yeah…" he agreed, laughing. "A psychic probably would have."

I didn't want him to laugh.

Not right then.

For once, I hated the sound of that laugh.

I had never hated his laugh before. Usually, when he laughed, I couldn't help laughing, too.

He made everyone laugh.

Buzz…

Gus…

Even the Chief laughed when Shawn laughed.

Well, sometimes…

But, this time…there just wasn't anything to laugh at.

My eyes narrowed as he continued to laugh, and I broke my promise.

I smacked him again.

Hard.

"Ow!" He groaned, rubbing his now black and blue arm. "That was the same spot! Damn it, Jules! If you're going to hit me, at least vary the pain! Work the chest…the other arm…a kidney… something!"

"A psychic would have seen that one coming!"

"I'm not a psychic, Jules!"

He said it quietly.

Earnestly.

His eyes were locked with mine now, his hands by his sides.

"I know." I whispered.

"I know you know."

I shook my head, looking down at my bare feet, which were burrowing absently into the sand.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Shawn?" I asked, still refusing to meet his eyes. "What am I supposed to do the next time Carlton or the Chief call you in on a case?"

"I don't know…have them use their phone so you don't waste your minutes?"

"You know what I mean. Am I supposed to just pretend not to know anything?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing for seven years?"

This time, I met his eyes.

"No." I said firmly. "It's not, Shawn. I haven't been lying for seven years. _You _have. I _wanted_ to believe you. I wanted to trust you. Maybe I buried my head in the sand, but that's not the same thing as lying to everyone I work with every single day I go to the station. I'm not going to do that, Shawn."

"Jules--"

"No. I can't do that. Maybe you can…but I can't."

He nodded slowly.

"Then don't." He shrugged. "I don't care."

"Shawn--"

"Jules." He smiled, stepping closer. "I'm not asking you to lie for me. If you can't do it, you can't. I understand. I'm just through lying to you. I can lie to them…I can lie to anyone. Hell, I lie to Gus every day. But not you."

"Why not?" I demanded. "Why can't you lie to me?"

He just shrugged again.

"Because that was the mistake, Jules. That was the mistake."


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment, I didn't say anything.

What was I supposed to say?

We stood there, silently staring at each other as the sun beat down on our heads and the cool water washed over our feet. I could feel a sharp pebble digging into my heel as I anchored my feet in the damp sand, but I didn't care.

It didn't hurt.

Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, I decided there just wasn't anything left to say. I turned around and started to walk away without another word.

It was the third time that day I had tried to walk away from Shawn Spencer…

When was I going to learn it just wasn't possible?

I only got two steps this time before his soft, even voice stopped me once again.

"You never asked me why."

I slowly turned back around, though I did everything I could to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"What?" I asked as if I hadn't heard every word, my eyes peering through the crystal clear water by my feet, searching for the pebble I had been stepping on moments ago.

I didn't find it.

I didn't really try all that hard. I just couldn't look at those eyes…

Shawn took a slow, deliberate step back, wading up to his ankles in the gently undulating waves.

"You never asked me why I lied." He repeated, following my line of sight into the water, almost like he was searching for the pebble with me. "I didn't just wake up one morning and walk into the police station claiming to be a psychic, Jules. Aren't you supposed to ask me why I did it? Isn't that part of the whole cop-training thing?"

He rubbed his bruised arm again, though it was just for dramatic effect this time.

I hadn't hit him again.

"You got the beating a confession out of your suspect part down, though…" he murmured. "If you hit me again, I'd confess to the Kennedy assassination. Of course…I wasn't born yet, so I don't think it would hold up in court…"

I rolled my eyes and cut him off.

"I didn't beat a confession out of you." I informed him. "I beat you after you confessed. There's a difference."

"True," he laughed. "You got the order wrong that time."

"I didn't get the order wrong, Shawn." I snapped. "I hit you when you deserved it."

"Okay." He conceded with a careless shrug. "You didn't get the order wrong…but aren't you going to ask me why?"

I sighed and took another step towards him, suddenly feeling that same pebble under my foot again…digging into my skin…

I could already feel the dime-sized indentation it was going to leave.

Maybe even a scar…

"Why?" I asked finally, already regretting it.

I didn't want to know why.

It didn't matter why.

All that mattered was the lie.

All I could think about was the lie…

"They thought I robbed some store." He told me quietly. "I called in a tip…the information was good. They thought I was working with the guy and turned on him. You know how much Lassie likes me now….well, imagine how much he liked me when he thought I was a thief. I couldn't get him to believe I was just that damn good…so I made up some story about being a psychic. And they bought it."

I blinked in surprise, finally looking up from the water and into Shawn's face.

"You didn't have to keep it up for seven years." I said. "You didn't have to keep working on cases and open Psych…"

"True." He nodded, grinning. "But it was too much fun to quit. Come on, Jules. You have to admit. It's been a hell of a lot of fun."

For the first time that day, I actually allowed myself to smile.

Just a little…

"Yeah." I admitted reluctantly. "It's been fun."

"That's why I did it. Because it's a hell of a lot of fun. Well…and the almost getting arrested thing."

I nodded slowly.

Finally, it made sense.

Well, as much sense as anything Shawn said ever made…

"Anyway." He shrugged. "That's it, I guess. That's all I wanted to say. Do whatever you have to do, Jules. I don't care. I just wanted you to ask why."

He turned on his heel, and for the first time, Shawn Spencer walked away from me.

As I watched him walk up the beach, his figure slowly disappearing into the sun, I didn't know what to think.

And I still didn't have a damn clue what I was going to do.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, I didn't have much time to decide what to do.

The next morning, about ten minutes after I got to the station, Carlton and I got called to a murder scene.

The Chief had already called Shawn.

He and Gus arrived at the victim's apartment a few minutes after we did. Gus was the same as always; squeamish at the sight of the body and perpetually bickering with Shawn.

But Shawn…

Shawn was different.

He didn't dive into the scene like usual. He didn't have any glib observations, didn't insult my partner the moment they saw each other, didn't burst out into random fits of nonsensical babbling…

For a long moment, he just stood in the doorway watching me.

I could feel his eyes following my every move as I made my way around the apartment, trying to piece together the last few minutes of the victim's life.

I tried to ignore him…but it's another one of those irreversible laws of nature.

You can't walk away from Shawn Spencer, and you can't ignore Shawn Spencer.

I knew why he was watching me.

I knew what he wanted.

There just wasn't anything I could say.

I still didn't know what I was going to do.

Finally, he came into the room, suddenly wearing the same effortless, carefree grin he always had plastered across his face.

"Hey, Jules." He greeted me completely casually, for all the world appearing that nothing was different

That nothing had changed.

"Hi, Shawn."

I tried to return the smile, but I'm pretty sure I failed miserably.

"What do we have?"

"Victim was shot twice at close range. No signs of a break in."

He nodded, looking around the apartment thoughtfully. I watched his eyes, wondering what they were seeing.

Now that I knew they weren't seeing ghosts and apparitions, I wanted to know…

What did Shawn see that I didn't see?

How did he look at the same crime scene I was looking at and come up with the answers when all I had were questions?

If he wasn't psychic, what the heck was he?

"I'm getting something!" He gasped suddenly, clutching at his temples with both hands.

Carlton rolled his eyes from across the room.

"Just spit it out, Spencer." He growled.

But Shawn wasn't paying attention to Carlton. He was looking at me.

"Jules!" He gasped, putting his palm flat against my forehead. "It's about you…"

"What?" I asked, for the briefest of moments being drawn into his performance.

Not that I forgot he wasn't really psychic or anything.

I was just curious what was going to come out of his mouth next.

I was just holding on and hoping for the best.

He grinned and winked at me.

"You were a kickboxer in a former life. And…wait!...a member of the KGB…?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away.

"Knock it off." I snapped, turning away, pretending like I was looking at the chalk outline on the floor.

"Ow!" He yelped in obviously pretend pain. "See? You still have some KGB in you!"

"What about the body, Spencer?" Carlton growled, rolling his eyes. "Maybe in _your _ former life, you were someone actually useful!"

Shawn blinked, looking somewhat hurt by the slight.

"I'm useful!" He insisted. "Uh—I think the two bullet holes in the chest killed him."

I had to stop myself from laughing when I saw Carlton's ears turn red, just like they always do when he's about to yell at Shawn.

I turned away and started to search the floor for nothing in particular so he wouldn't see my biting my lip.

I was so intent on my fake search that I didn't even see Gus standing in the far corner of the room, trying not to look at the body.

"Sorry." I mumbled after I accidentally stepped on his foot.

"Are you okay?" He asked, still doing his best not to see the corpse.

"Yeah." I lied. "I'm just…investigating."

He didn't seem to buy it. He looked at me carefully for a moment, then glanced over at Shawn, who was on the other side of the room doing something that was making Carlton glare at him.

"He told you, didn't he?" He asked quietly.

I looked up at him, trying to hide my surprise at the question.

"What?"

"He told me he was going to…" Gus shrugged. "I just didn't think he was that stupid. After thirty years, you'd think I'd know better…of course he's that stupid."

"Yeah…" I agreed with a solemn nod when I was sure Carlton couldn't hear. "He's that stupid."

We stood by-by-side for a moment, watching as Shawn followed Carlton around the apartment, gleefully mimicking every move my partner made. I could tell Carlton was about two seconds away from tasering him.

Part of me hoped me would…

Gus was laughing quietly to himself.

"He's an idiot." He said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Yeah…"

He turned to me, his face suddenly growing serious.

"He'd deserve it, you know. It's his own fault. Not yours."

"What do you mean?" I asked limply, as if I didn't know.

As if I hadn't been wrestling with it all day.

"If you turned him in. He's the idiot who told the truth."

"I'm not going to turn him in, Gus."

"You're not?"

I sighed, wishing I was as confident as I sounded.

"I don't know."

"Spencer!" Carlton was shouting now. "Go away!"

I laughed again.

"How has no one killed him yet?"

Gus cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, I've almost killed him." He intoned seriously. "More than once."

"Me, too."

"But every time I want to…" Gus continued slowly, as if thinking about each word before saying it. "I remember this time in third grade. I was playing baseball in my yard, and I hit the ball through the window. Shawn wasn't even there, but he took the blame. He got grounded for a month and a lecture from his dad…and knowing his dad, the lecture was probably the more painful of the two. But Shawn didn't even blink."

"Gus--"

But Gus wasn't listening to me. He pushed on, his eyes distant now.

"Of course, he had gotten me grounded the month before…and suspended from school before that. So he deserved everything he got. But that wasn't the point."

"Then what _is_ the point?" I sighed, my head pounding.

I wasn't any closer to figuring out what I was going to do.

Gus just shrugged.

"He didn't have to do it, Jules. But he did. That's why he's my best friend. And that's why I can never pull the trigger."


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn was alone at the Psych office when I knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for him to answer.

He was sprawled out on the couch, apparently in the middle of a "psychic" nap. He didn't even hear me come in.

At least, he didn't hear me until I smacked the top of his head.

I don't know why I did it.

I wasn't mad at him anymore. Not really.

I guess I just wanted to hit him one more time.

"Ow!" He yelped, suddenly wide awake. "What the--?"

He sat up, rubbing his head gingerly.

"Hey, Jules." He mumbled once he figured out I wasn't a psycho with an axe or something. "What are you doing here? Did you bring your cuffs?"

"I'm not going to arrest you, Shawn." I told him, sliding onto the couch next to him.

"Who said anything about arresting me?" He grinned back, his eyebrows arching suggestively.

I ignored the suggestion.

I'd been ignoring that suggestion for seven years.

And it had been suggested a _lot._

"I mean it." I said quietly, settling into the couch, resting my elbow on the armrest. "I'm not going to do it."

"You're not going to _what?_ Hit me again? Please say it's hit me again."

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.

Why did I even bother trying to have a serious conversation with him?

"I'm not going to turn you in." I clarified through my fingers, even though I knew I didn't have to.

He may not have been psychic, but he wasn't an idiot.

"Oh."

That was all he said.

"Oh."

No comeback.

No smart remark.

No witty banter.

Just…oh.

There wasn't anything I could say to "Oh", so for a moment we sat in silence, staring blankly at the floor in front of the couch.

Finally, he thought of something else.

"Why not?" He asked, turning his head so he was looking directly into my eyes.

Until that moment, I hadn't realized how close we were. When we were sitting side by side not even looking at each other, it seemed like miles separated us…

But now…

His hand was resting on the cushion so close to mine that I could feel the warmth radiating off of it. When I looked down, I swore I could almost feel the soft, firm skin of his palm pressed firmly against mine…but, of course, I couldn't…

Not really…

We weren't actually touching.

But we were so close…

I pulled my hand away, but not too far.

I still wanted to feel that warmth.

"If I asked Carlton if he thought you were really a psychic, what do you think he'd say?" I asked, answering his question with one of my own.

Shawn shrugged.

"That I'm a pain in the ass and he'd like to skin me alive and feed me bite-by-bite to rabid coyotes?"

"But would he say you're real?" I pressed. "Gun to his head?"

Shawn blinked slowly, considering.

"Gun to his head? No. He'd say I help solve cases and he has no damn idea how I do it, but it's not supernatural."

"Exactly." I nodded. "And what would the Chief say?"

"That I'm too darn adorable to be a liar? I think she goes for the puppy dog eyes…"

"Shawn."

"Probably the same as Lassie." He sighed. "Except fewer damns. And no threats to skin me alive."

"Then what's the point?" I asked, moving my hand back closer to his. "Shawn, I don't know how you do it…but you do it. Every time. It's just…who you are. Psychic or not, it doesn't matter. You're…just you. And everyone accepts that. What would it really change if I told them the truth? You'd still be able to solve the unsolvable cases. You'd still baffle the Chief and tick of Carlton. Nothing would change."

"Then what was with all the hitting?" He demanded. "If you're okay with lying--"

"I'm _not_ okay with lying." I corrected him, standing up. "I'm not okay with lying at all, Shawn. That's why I hit you."

"I don't--"

"What else was a lie?" I asked quietly, standing over him now. "I need to know. Right now. What else was a lie?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Not being psychic doesn't change the cases…it doesn't change who you are at the station. But it changes…you. It changes you as my friend. You didn't tell me for seven years, Shawn. If you were lying about who you are, what else were you lying about?"

He sat up.

"Jules--"

But I didn't let him finish his thought.

"What about…us?" I demanded, my voice so quiet even I could barely hear myself. "What about everything that's almost happened? Is that just part of the psychic act? Is that just you being you? Something everyone accepts even though we all know it's not real?"

He stood up, and once again we were so close I could feel all the warmth of his body enveloping me.

"No." He whispered, his lips brushing past my ear. "It's not part of the psychic act. That's why I told you. So you'd know…"

"Know what?" I whispered back, our faces inches apart but not moving closer.

He smiled, his fingers lacing through mine.

"So you'd know what's real."


	6. Chapter 6

So I'd know what's real…

That's what he told me.

He wanted me to know what's real…

Is that even possible?

I see it every day…victims who aren't quite as innocent as they'd want you to believe.

Domestic disturbances where both parties have complete opposite stories, neither of which make any sense and both of which have holes in them big enough to drive a semi through.

People I arrest for murder who say they're innocent even in the face of cold, hard fact.

Even when their finger prints are on the murder weapon and a witness I.D.'s them in a line-up…

And now a fake psychic detective who wanted me to know he was a fake.

In a world with so much gray in so many different shades, could there ever be anything black and white?

Could there ever be anything real?

Anything true?

As I sat there in Psych on the couch, my head cradled on Shawn's shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me, I knew there had to be something real.

Even if nothing outside that room was true…even if there was only one thing in the entire world that was real…

This was it.

This was real.

Shawn was real…even if he was a fake.

I was real.

We…we were real.

I could feel his chest gently rising and falling as we just sat there, not saying anything.

Just…being.

Being…together.

He slipped his hand into mine, and in that moment, none of the gray, none of the black and white seemed to matter.

Maybe that's not how I'm supposed to see the world, anyway.

Maybe it's not shades of gray.

Maybe it's not black and white.

Maybe it's Technicolor.

That was how it felt, anyway.

It was like that scene in _Wizard of Oz_ when Dorothy steps out of the house into Oz and sees everything in color for the first time.

In that moment, sitting next to Shawn, feeling his pulse quicken as I ran my finger over his arm…that was me.

I was Dorothy.

I was in Oz.

I was through the looking glass.

I didn't know what it meant, and I didn't know what was going to happen next.

I still don't…

But maybe I'm not supposed to.

Maybe I'm just supposed to hold on and hope for the best.


End file.
